Merry and Bright by Jill Shalvis Page A

come in and make sure everything’s okay?”
    “You wouldn’t look?” She looked intrigued at this. “Really?”
    “Not if you didn’t want me to.”
    “Oh.” She looked so crestfallen, he laughed, and unable to help himself, he put his hands on her hips and pulled her in. “If you begged me,” he murmured in her ear. “Maybe I’d look then.”
    She smiled, and it obliterated a few million of her brain cells.
    “Okay, truth,” he said. “I’d look. I’d look for a long time, and then I’d touch.”
    “Oh,” she breathed, sounding a little turned on. “Really?”
    “And then I’d taste. I’d lick and nibble and—”
    The sound of glass shattering broke the night’s silence. “What was that?” he asked.
    “I don’t know.” She pulled out her keys and unlocked her front door, looking up at him questioningly when he held her back so he could enter first.
    Her condo was dark, but enough of the streetlights shined in through the windows that he could see the living room was empty, and so was the kitchen. But the sliding glass door between the two, leading out onto a deck, was wide open to the night. “Did you leave the door like that?”
    “No. No way.”
    Which, given her anal tendencies, he believed without question. He ran to the glass and looked out, where he could see a tipped-over ceramic bowl and plant—the source of the noise they’d heard.
    Someone had just left, in a big hurry. He glanced down, saw the broken lock and moved to the edge of the deck, leaning over to see the path that lined the entire complex, which was well lit both ways for as far as he could see. There wasn’t a single soul.
    Her mysterious visitor had vanished.
    He turned around and went back inside, where Maggie was turning on lights in the living room, revealing soft, muted beachy colors and a neat, minimalist style. He pulled out his cell phone to call the police. “Is anything missing?”
    “No.”
    He spoke to dispatch, was assured a car would come out to investigate, and slipped his phone into his pocket. He eyed the couch and matching chair, the coffee table, all perfectly arranged and perfectly neat. Much like the woman. “Let’s check upstairs.”
    The minimalist trend continued on the second floor, with one big exception—her bathroom. While he stood in the doorway, mouth open, enthralled by the sight, she was hastily yanking down a forest of hanging lingerie. Yellow silk, blue satin, black lace, a virtual cornucopia of exoticness that made thinking all but impossible.
    “Don’t look!” she demanded, shoving everything in a small drawer. She pulled at a simple white cotton thong that was maybe two square inches of material. “You’re still looking!” She was all breathless and adorably sexy, and desperate to hide her things. “Close your eyes!”
    “I’m sorry,” he said with a laugh, when she twisted to glare at him. “I can’t hear a word you’re saying, you just blew all my remaining brain cells. Do you really wear all this . . . ?” He fingered a set of garters, black silk, and felt himself get hard.
    “Yes.” She yanked it out of his fingers and shoved it into one of her pockets. “Lots of women wear pretty things beneath their clothes, you know. It’s not like I’m a freak.”
    “Oh, baby, I never thought you were a freak.” He put his hands on her arms and halted her frenetic movements. “That’s not what I was thinking at all.”
    “What are you thinking?” she whispered.
    He looked into her beautiful face and those eyes that had a way of sneaking past all his defenses. “I’m thinking you’re the smartest, funniest, most fascinating woman I’ve ever met. And you’re so desperate to hide your sexy garters that I’m wondering what else you’re hiding.”
    She ignored that. “Fascinating is a euphemism. You might as well say I have a good personality.”
    “You do.”
    “We both know what it means when someone says that. It means I’m a dog.”
    At that, he